


Let's Get Physical

by zayndehaan



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Locker Room, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayndehaan/pseuds/zayndehaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A birthday fic for Kat that was supposed to be sweet and thoughtful and adorable and ended up being smut. Hope you like it! Happy belated birthday, dear!</p><p>(Beta'd by Actual Gay Male Tylarrr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Get Physical

Arthur really hates Cobb.

He really, _really_ hates Cobb.

In fact, the only reason he's here right now, standing awkwardly in a dress shirt and slacks in the middle of a weights room, feeling unusually overdressed and surrounded by assumed metal torture devices, is because of Cobb. Cobb and his stupid crush on Mallorie Miles, a girl in her third year at the college. Cobb and Arthur are in their second years, and Arthur is 200% convinced that Cobb and Mal are never going to be a couple that happens. Mal is breathtakingly gorgeous, and French of all things, and she's elegant and graceful at everything she does, whereas Cobb is just another guy attending college on a football scholarship. See? Not gonna happen.

One of the things that Mal does that she is elegant and graceful at is weight-lifting, a fact that Cobb had discovered recently and spent probably a day freaking out about. Mal spends at least an hour every day in this room, for reasons unfathomable to Arthur. And once Cobb had found that out, he'd decided to take up a new interest in working out, with Arthur as his...

"I'm your wingman, right?" Arthur asks for clarification.

"Spotter," Cobb replies from the bench-press station he's setting up.

"What's a spotter?" Arthur grumbles out quietly, half-hoping Cobb won't hear him, and the other man's head cocks up, an expression of disbelief and amusement on his face.

"You're joking."

"I can assure you," Arthur confesses, "I most certainly am not." He eyes the weight set gingerly, and crosses his arms in discomfort.

"A spotter is someone who watches you while you do a set," Cobb explains patiently in the most condescending voice possible. "So, you're going to support me, and cheer me on. And if you see my hands shaking and have a premonition of my body being suddenly crushed by a weight, you grab it and lift it up safely so I don't get injured."

Arthur ponders that, and then clarifies, "But you don't expect me to be able to _lift_ that fucking thing, do you?" His gaze drifts over to the weights on the rack, labeled in ascending order of heaviness. "Unless you're planning on doing bench-presses with the 5-pound rings. Because those I could do."

Cobb laughs, and Arthur frowns.

"Arthur, you'll be fine. Just..." The football star leans in close, and says in an over-dramatic undertone, "tell me when Mal gets here. Give me a signal or something, okay?"

"Will do, Romeo," Arthur shoots back, snarky as can be, and then watches as Cobb lies down on the bench underneath the bar, placing his hands on the cold metal and clenching his fingers around it.

Arthur's keen ears pick up on footsteps in the room, and turns around instinctively, confirming himself to be the most probable Worst Spotter Ever. He soon forgets about Cobb, though, as his eyes focus on the man in front of him, light brown hair mussed up and a towel thrown over his sweaty shoulder. His shirt is stuck to his abdomen, and Arthur is having problems not staring at the clear outline of the stranger's six-pack, outlined by perspiration. The man's eyes are dark blue, and his lips are turned slightly outwards.

"Hello, Dominic," the man says to Cobb, and Arthur stiffens slightly because the sentence is directed towards Dom but those blue eyes are still staring at him, gaze both intent and intense.

"Hey," Cobb grunts back, sitting up with a wheezing noise and a smile. "Eames, this is Arthur."

"Hi," Arthur offers, the world suddenly rushing back to him as he quickly remembers that he is unfortunately not the star of a tacky porno film, and that this guy Eames is probably some completely heterosexual stereotypical college student like Cobb. He probably even has a girlfriend.

"Hello," Eames offers Arthur a smile, and Arthur smiles back diffidently, putting in a heroic effort to maintain eye contact and not check out Eames' lower body. "Do you work out, Arthur?"

"No," Arthur admits, suddenly feeling highly incompetent. "Um, no. I'm just spotting for Cobb while he does a set."

"Oh, really? Do you want to spot for me afterwards, then?" Eames asks, and Arthur blinks three times before he realizes Eames is making a serious offer and not hitting on him.

"Sure," he shrugs, as if he would pass up an opportunity to watch Eames work out. "Aren't you... uh... you look like you've already exercised?"

Cobb pipes up from behind Arthur, "He went for a run."

Arthur's head flicks back for a moment to look at Cobb, and then he turns back to Eames. "Around the school?"

"Yeah," Eames laughs, and it's British and wonderful and Arthur can't help but smile. Eames smiles back, his mouth turning up into a grin, and they're left smiling at each other for no reason whatsoever.

Someone new enters the room, and Arthur breaks eye contact to look over at the person behind Eames. "Hi, Mal," he says loudly, and he hears Cobb scrambling behind him to stand up and maneuver himself over to the girl.

"Hello, Arthur, Eames," Mal greets them with her soft French voice, and then adds, a slow smirk appearing on her face, "Dom."

"Hi," Cobb pants hurriedly, grinning. "Do you want me to spot for you?"

"Sure," Mal answers, and Cobb's grin grows tenfold. He follows Mal over to some complicated-looking weight machine, and Arthur spends an extra couple seconds trying to divine what the purpose of such a machine could be. He then blinks, and realizes he is now standing alone and quite close to Eames.

"I, um," Arthur squeaks out, staring into those dark blue eyes. "D'you want me to spot for you?"

"It kinda looks like you've already spotted me," Eames breathes back to him in an undertone.

Arthur glances over at his best friend, and then back to Eames. "Good," he begins unsurely, "because I sort of already did?" The phrase sounds more like a question.

"Great," Eames replies, and before Arthur can even think of what to reply to that Eames reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling him out of the room. Arthur is overcome with anticipation and bewilderement, but he does manage to turn around and flash Cobb a look of "what the fuck is happening".

Cobb is too busy talking to Mal to notice.

Arthur is again reminded of how much he hates Cobb.

Eames pulls him out of the fitness centre and into the adjoining locker room, holding his hand awkwardly. The position wouldn't be awkward at all, as their hands apparently fit together perfectly, if not for the expression of turmoil on Eames' face.

"What?" Arthur asks with concern.

"How old are you?" Eames asks, and Arthur feels something inside him stir. It's either soft affection or overwhelming desire, but Arthur can't tell which for the life of him.

"19," he answers uncertainly, and Eames makes a noise similar to a groan before leaning forward and kissing him, slower than Arthur expects him to.

They kiss for approximately half a minute, and it's wonderful, and most likely the best kiss Arthur has ever had, which is completely ridiculous because he's standing in a locker room next to a sweaty stranger. Regardless, Arthur is the one to kiss back, hands moving up to Eames' face and hair, cupping his cheek and running through his wet hair.

That should really be gross. That should really, _really_ feel gross.

Eames opens his mouth slightly, as more of an invitation than anything, and Arthur is beginning to feel frustrated with the rate Eames is going at. He's nineteen, not fifteen, and he's not having any doubts about Eames. Arthur leans into the kisses, which start to heat up as Eames' tongue collides against his. The British man’s hands begin moving over Arthur's body, slowly and almost tentatively.

"Fuck," Arthur says into Eames' mouth, and something inside Eames seems to break. Whatever reason he had for holding back seems to end, and he pushes Arthur back against the wall of lockers. Then he glances quickly to the hall, and pulls the student into a darker corner where they’re less likely to be seen.

“We can’t get caught, Arthur,” Eames insists, and Arthur doesn’t reply, just reaches down and palms Eames through his work-out pants. Eames sort of hisses at him, and then their mouths connect again.

Arthur's breath hitches, and he feels a rush of lust run through him. Eames slots a leg between his legs, and Arthur moves against it, feeling Eames kissing along his jawline. His head slams backwards, and his jaw drops open as Eames sets to work on his collarbone.

The British boy murmurs something undecipherable into his skin, and Arthur repeats with insistence, " _Fuck_ , Eames, you're attractive."

“I’m glad you think so,” Eames breathes, voice deliciously rough and deep, and Arthur grinds down against him with a moan, wrapping his arms around Eames’ shoulders and his legs around his hips. He’s sure he’ll regret crumpling his dress shirt later, but he can’t bring himself to give a damn right now. This is, actually, when he stops to think about it, probably the craziest thing he’s done in two years of college. He’s been to the frat parties and gotten so drunk he couldn’t tell how many fingers the police officer had been holding up, and he’s gotten kissed in the rain (by a heavily inebriated Yusuf.) But as Eames, a man who is practically a stranger to Arthur, holds him up on the wall and ravishes him, and he responds back enthusiastically, Arthur feels a strange sense of this being the culmination of his college years so far. And plausibly the best part yet.

He reaches down and palms Eames through his pants, because that got enough of a reaction last time he did, and he stares into Eames’ eyes as he does it, questioning if it’s okay to take off the other man’s clothing. Eames quickly lets his pants drop to the ground, and Arthur follows suit, kicking his slacks off of his legs and then letting them fall on the ground.

Then, suddenly, they’re both fumbling with their underwear, and before Arthur can say, “Okay, I’m nude, have at me,” Eames’ hand is on his erection, and moving faster than Arthur usually moves. Arthur lets out a sort of moan, and he reaches out for Eames, taking the other man into his hand and attempting to match his speed.

Eames leans forward as they jerk each other off, pushing Arthur back into the wall once more and rubbing a thumb over his slit. Arthur is almost ready, and he’s suddenly sure that he’s going to finish embarrassingly fast.

Eames mumbles something against his ear that sounds like “darling,” and the endearment itself half-drives Arthur to the edge as he presses his cock against Eames’.

“Say that again,” Arthur gasps out. “Ca-call me more British names.”

Eames barks out a low laugh, and then leans in close, whispering, “Love. Pet. _Arthur_.”

Arthur isn’t sure whether it’s the way Eames says his name, or the idea that Eames knows he drives Arthur crazy, but he comes at the last word, closing his eyes and giving into the feeling of ecstasy.

He feels Eames move against him a few more times, and then let out a long breath and finish. Arthur opens his eyes wearily, and then says in a quiet, tired voice, “I can’t believe I just did that in a locker room.” He slips Eames a grin.

Eames smiles slowly, and then raises an eyebrow. “I must admit, that wasn’t the work-out I expected to have today.”

“Yeah?” Arthur laughs and smirks at Eames, heading over to the showers. “I didn’t expect to burn any calories at all, actually.”

He walks over to the showers, a little weak-kneed, and suddenly Cobb exits from the shower, smiling as he sees Arthur. His smile freezes and then slowly fades from his face.

“Arthur, you _didn’t_.”

Arthur feels his whole face go red as Eames appears behind him in a similar physical state.

“I, um, hi?” he manages to get out, pushing his way past Cobb into the shower. Behind him, Eames smiles at Cobb and winks saucily, and Arthur can hear Cobb’s protests echoing from behind him.

“Arthur. Arthur, you fucking DIDN’T! With _Eames_? You just met him! You _just_ met him!”

Arthur turned around and smiled at Eames, ignoring his best friend. “You up for a shower?”

“Absolutely,” Eames replies with a laugh, and Arthur hears a loud noise of Cobb’s suffering from outside the shower area.

Okay, so he maybe hates Cobb a little less.


End file.
